More Than Meets the Eye
by hawklover90
Summary: set during 07 movieverse Grace finally picks a new and hopefully permanent place to stay in Tranquility, Nevada. There, she meets Samuel Witwicky and sees an empty yellow 1975 Chevey Camaro...
1. Prologue: Tears for the Unknown

Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one (except Grace)

Part of the 'Flashback' thing.

This takes place between chapters 5 and 6 of 'Anything but Normal'.

Feel free to drop a review

Enjoy!

--

**Prologue: Tears for the Unknown**

_March 1996 (our time)_

_Somewhere near Nottingham…_

The trees of Sherwood Forest rustled as a warm breeze twist and turned through the branches. The cloudless night sky revealed a brilliant display of countless stars.

Unfortunately, it was well past midnight and anyone who would have enjoyed the sight of the awe-inspiring cosmos was asleep in their homes.

Well, almost everyone…

Little John scanned the branches of the trees, searching for the one thing keeping him from a good nights sleep.

The young charge of his best friend had run of into the forest in the late hours of the night.

Earlier that day, he volunteered to look after the little bundle of energy until the next morning, leaving her guardians to enjoy a night to themselves without any…awkward…questions in the morning. Everything had gone smoothly until he went to check on her an hour ago. The rope tied to the bed told him what happened.

She was either bored or had a bad dream and had snuck out of her room and into the nearby wood.

_Again._

'_This is the fifth time this month,' _he thought with a mixture of annoyance and concern. _'Somethin's wrong.'_

A small sob broke through the outlaw's thoughts and drew his attention to a branch high above him. There, clutching a teddy bear and staring up at the night sky, was the small girl his friend treated as his own.

"Grace?"

Grace Gallaher looked down at her caretaker with some surprise, but said nothing.

"Been lookin' all over for ya, kid," John whispered. "You shouldn't be out this late. You should be asleep."

"Sorry." She murmured softly.

The tears streaming down her scarred face halted any more scolding Little John had thought up.

"Grace?"

No answer.

"Hey, what's wrong, kido?"

"Hurts." She whimpered.

The outlaw panicked. The girl was injured not too long ago and she still had her bandages on. The wounds must have reopened or…

"Not me."

He blinked in confusion. "What?"

Grace shook her head. "Not me that's hurt."

Little John held back a small sigh of relief. Good, she wasn't hurt.

Then why is she crying?

On a hunch, he asked, "What's hurt, then?"

The five-year-old pointed up to a gap in the trees. The stars could be seen clearly through the opening.

"The sky's hurt?" he guessed.

Grace shook her head and pointed again.

"The stars?" he asked. It was ridiculous, but knowing the girl it was worth a shot. Still he was surprised when she nodded, shook her head, and pointed again with more urgency.

'_Alright, yes and no.'_ John thought. Glancing from the child to the night sky, he tried again.

"Something…_in _the stars?"

Grace nodded before burying her face into her stuffed toy, her small figure shaking from muffled sobs. Reaching out a large hand, Little John cradled her head, gently brushing strands of her light brown hair away from her face.

"So…something…someone in the stars is hurt?" he asked quietly.

Grace sniffed and nodded, her small hand wiping away her tears as she faced her caretaker with watery green eyes.

"Hurting very bad." She whispered quietly.

This only increased the man's worry. For as long as anyone could remember, Grace could sense the people and emotions around her. If someone was happy, she felt their joy. If someone was angry, frightened, or in pain, she'd cry.

Whoever, or whatever, was up there…

They had to be in a lot of pain for Grace to be sensing them from so far away and crying like this.

"What's wrong with it?" he asked.

She pointed to her neck and heart.

"'e can't talk," she explained. "An' misses his family."

"The person?"

Grace nodded then reached her arms out to him. Taking the hint, Little John picked the girl up from the branch and cradled her to his chest, her head immediately burying into his shoulder while maintaining a tight grip on her toy.

"Why can't the person talk?"

He was surprised when Grace looked up at the sky with a mix of fear and hatred in her hazel green eyes.

"Metal demons with red eyes took his voice."

The tone of anger in the five-year-old's answer startled him.

"Did you dream this?"

"Uh-huh." She mumbled.

"It was probably just it, Gracie. A bad dream." Little John knew he wasn't being completely honest, but he had to say something to calm her down.

Grace looked at her friend. She knew he was just saying that, but she was getting tired. She'll worry about it tomorrow.

"C'mon, it's late. We'd better head back."

"…'kay…" she murmured. _'Maybe Jonny's right. It was just a bad dream…right?'_

As she slipped back into a deep sleep, one word drifted through her tired mind for a brief moment.

'_Spark…?'_

--

_The next morning…_

"Hi Grace."

Grace looked up from her drawing and smiled. "Oh, hi Olivia. How're you?"

Olivia Flaversham returned the smile as she sat down next to her friend. "I'm fine, thank you. You?"

"Okay. Tired, but okay."

"Bad dream?"

"More like weird."

"I see. What're you drawing?"

Grace shrugged. "Dunno. Something I saw in my dream last night."

Colored on the paper was a bright yellow shape with two black stripes on what looked like shoulders. Arms and legs were easily recognizable and were yellow with black and grey in some areas. Two light blue dots were its eyes. Dark blue and black was scribbled around the figure with yellow dots scattered within it.

"What are the dots suppose to be?"

"Stars."

"And what's that? A person?"

"I don't know. Maybe."

Olivia squinted at the drawing and tilted her head to the side. "It kind of looks like a bee to me."

Grace looked back at her drawing. "You think so?" she asked.

"Yeah, if you squint at it. Well, only with arms and legs."

Grace squinted at the yellow and black being colored on the paper.

Her friend was right. It did look like a bee.

"Hey, yeah, you're right. What kind though?"

"A honey bee?" Olivia guessed.

The human girl shook her head with a slight scowl.

No, that didn't sound like it fit the…whatever it was.

"No," Grace answered. "It looks more li-."

"There you are!"

The two girls turned in surprise. Behind them, holding her doll as always, was Skippy's youngest sister, Tag-a-long.

"I've been looking all over for you."

"Why? What's up?"

"Skippy an' Toby said they found a secret way into the palace an' think that you might wanna come an' see it. They're looking for you, too." The small rabbit said in one breath. "So, do you?"

"Yeah. Can Olivia come with us?"

"Sure."

The two began to run ahead. Grace jumped up to follow when she stopped. Olivia noticed the human girl wasn't coming and turned around.

"Grace?" she asked. "Something wrong?"

"Nah, you guys go on ahead. I'll catch up."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

The two girls looked at each other, shrugged and scampered off. As soon as they left her sight, Grace flipped the paper over, grabbed a yellow crayon and quickly scribbled one word before she stood, tossed the crayon back to the ground and ran after her friends.

On the blank side of the drawing, written in the messy hand writing of a soon-to-be-six-year-old, one word stood out in bright yellow letters;

_Bumblebee._

--

Btw, the world this chapter is set in is the Disney version of Robin Hood and Olivia Flaversham is from 'The Great Mouse Detective'

Please drop a review and let me know if I should continue

Thanks!


	2. Chapter 1: New World, New Home?

Disclaimer: see my profile for list of characters I do own. Everything else ain't mine.

Enjoy!

**Chapter 1: New World, New Home?**

_2006_

_El Paso, Texas_

The blonde woman stared at the photograph with wide ice blue eyes then back at the person who handed it to her in utter disbelief. For the first time since finding out her daughter, BiBi, was still alive, Beatrix Kiddo was stunned into silence. In her slightly shaking hand, was a photo of a beautiful two-story house with a huge front porch and yard with a lawn. It took her all of two minutes to regain her voice.

"A-are you serious?"

"Yep."

And the sixteen-year-old girl in front of her said it was hers.

She and her daughter would not have to move around to different apartments anymore.

The woman could only stammer. "Wha…I…you…"

Grace leaned against the back of the couch, patiently waiting for her teacher's response. The last thing she expected from the former assassin was a bone-crushing hug that rivaled Starfire's.

"Thank you so much! I swear I'll pay you back for this somehow! I promi-!"

"Uh...Bea…need air…can't breathe…"

"Oh, sorry!"

Beatrix quickly let go of the teen. Taking a deep breath, Grace composed herself and looked the woman in the eye.

"Beatrix, I'm only gonna say this once. Every move, every technique you've taught me has saved my a..." she trailed off, remembering who else was in the room and seeing a look that promised a slow and painful death from Beatrix. "...butt more times than I can remember," Grace quickly corrected herself before continuing. "You're my friend, and you an' BiBi need a _real _place to stay. Those're the only reasons I did this, so don't say you owe me anything 'cause you don't. Besides, I got a place nearby, too."

"Really?"

"Uh-huh," the witch turned around and ruffled the dirty blonde hair of the couch's only occupant. "Hear that, Henrietta? You an' your mom are gonna live in a real house."

BiBi Kiddo giggled at her nickname. Henrietta was the name of one of BiBi's favorite anime characters, so Grace would call her that sometimes, much to her mother's chagrin.

"So…no more apartments?" she asked hopefully.

"Yep," Grace answered with a smile. "No more new apartments every three months."

The five-year-old couldn't contain herself.

"ALRIGHT! WE'RE GETTING A REAL HOUSE! WE'RE GETTING A REAL HOUSE! YAY!"

She shrieked, jumping up and down the couch before leaping into a surprised Grace's arms squealing a multiple, non-stop stream of 'thank you'. Unfortunately, BiBi's celebrating was cut off by a loud pounding from below and a man's voice bellowing.

"_KEEP IT DOWN UP THERE!"_

BiBi scowled down at the floor. "An' no more meanies telling me to stop celebrating when I want to neither, right?"

"Yep. Well, other than your mom."

"Hey!"

"Sweet!" The younger girl stuck her tounge out at the floor then looked back at Grace. "Does it have a backyard too?"

Beatrix chuckled at her daughter's enthusiasm before looking back at the photo. "So, where exactly is this place? The merry ol' land of Oz?" she joked.

"Ha-ha. Funny. It's in a town in Nevada called Tranquility. There's a pre-school BiBi can go to and," she glanced at her teacher with a faint smirk. "Its a couple hours away from Vegas."

Beatrix thought her daughter's face would split in two as her face grin became wider.

"Las Vegas! Mommy, does that mean we can see the pyramid with the light and the ceiling with all the lights like on CSI?"

"'CSI'?" Grace looked at the older woman with some surprise. "Isn't that show a bit too…graphic?"

"Says the girl who gives my five-year-old daughter 'Gunslinger Girl' books and DVDs."

Grace rolled her eyes. "At least I read an' watch them first to see if they're mostly okay."

"Right," Beatrix gave her student a disapproving look before answering BiBi. "And we'll see, baby."

BiBi let out a small squeal of deilight as Grace shifted her higher in her arms and continued. "Anyway, I'm also gonna enroll in the local high school."

Now the ex-assassin was really interested.

"High school?"

"Yeah."

"Feel like something'll happen there?" BiBi asked.

"Well, it's possible," Grace answered while setting the child back on the couch. "That and…I think this could be the place."

Silence hung over the three for a second before Beatrix spoke.

"You mean..?"

"The place I'll settle in?" Grace finished before facing her and shrugged. "Don't know. Here's hoping. So," she whipped out a roll of duct tape from behind her back. "Need any help packing?"

1111111111111111111

_Two days later…_

There was only one light in the lone three story house in Tranquility, Nevada. It was dim from the outside, but inside the bedroom was engulfed in an eerie blue glow from the computer screen. Grace broke her stare from the monitor and cast a bored glance around her new room.

'_Well, least it's a li'l better then Privet Drive. No friggin' cookie-cutter houses.'_ She thought with a yawn. Her eyes scanned the room before finally resting on the digital clock on her night stand.

11:25 pm.

'_Okay, you know it's a bad night when it's near 11:30 on a Friday and you're bored out of your skull.'_

Looking back at the screen, Grace tried to keep her eyes open as she scanned the current webpage. Her eyelids grew heavier and heavier, almost closing…

1111111111111111111

_Fear._

_Pure fear…no, terror…consumed her, rooting her right to the spot._

_This wasn't fear of battle. Nor the fear of childhood terrors._

_The ground shook violently beneath her feet as thick clouds of dust and smoke filled the air._

_It was so different from any other being she had fought against before. They were merely tools of evil._

_Hell, even Sauron wasn't as terrifying._

_This, however, was like evil incarnate._

_Through the dust and smoke, two blood-red lights seemed to pierce into her very being._

_A loud voice, almost demonic in nature, bellowed throughout the surrounding area and beyond, shaking her to the core._

"_**MINE!"**_

111111111111111111111

That definetly doesn't sound good.

Anyways, see the little button over there?

Click it. Please.


	3. Chapter 2: Nightmares, Memories and Name

Disclaimer: I only own Grace, Neko, and Dusk. Everything else ain't mine. Unfortunetly.

Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 2: Nightmares, Memories and Names**

"_**AHHHHHHHHH!"**_

The witch landed on the bedroom floor with a hard thud, jolting her out of sleep.

And the nightmare…

'_Wha…What was that?'_

Trying to control her shaking limbs, Grace took deep breaths as she struggled to get up, the vision of the dream still in her mind.

Those eyes…

No…not eyes…

Something else…

Whatever they were, they were blood-red, evil…

And strangely familiar.

And that voice…

A shudder ran through the teen as it echoed in her memory. The anger. The sheer, relentless malice it possessed terrified her.

It sounded like…

'_Like a demon,'_ she thought. _'A metal demon…'_

Finally standing, Grace rubbed a small bump that had formed on her head as hazel green eyes quickly darted around the room.

'_Alright Gracie. Relax. Everything's okay. There's no one here…'_

"Kid?"

Grace nearly jumped out of her skin before calming herself.

It was only Diego. The orange-gold saber-tooth tiger had offered to stay with her for one night at her new home. At the moment, he was lying on the bottom bunk of the bed, Grace's two kittens, Neko and Dusk, snuggled up against him fast asleep.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Huh? Oh . . . yeah, I'm fine, Diego," she lied. "I-it was just a bad dream. That's all."

Golden-green eyes narrowed at her before closing completely.

"Try not to stay up too late," he growled. "Got it?"

"Got it. G'night."

As soon as he was asleep, Grace quietly put her chair back up, her heart calming from the scare. Telling her friend it was just a bad dream was easy.

The hard part was convincing herself it was true.

Re-taking her seat, Grace checked her clock again.

11:27

She had nodded off for only two minutes.

The witch was about to just shut off her computer, say to hell with the fact it was Friday and turn in when something on the screen caught her eye.

"What the hell?"

On the screen was an eBay webpage that she knew for a fact she did _not_ open. The items on display were for sea exploration in the late 1800's. She could name all of them and tell they were in desperate need of repairs. One item on the screen drew her attention.

A pair of glasses. Cracked. Most likely from around the same time period as the other items.

'_Why the heck would someone put these up for bid?'_

Clicking on the item, Grace quickly scanned the sales pitch the owner, LadiesMan217, had come up with.

"…'kay," she murmured quietly. "Worn by a Captain Archibald Witwicky…one of the first guys to explore the Arctic…" the teen let out a soft snort. "Wow. Guy desperate for cash selling family heirlooms for less than a hundred bucks."

The urge to give 'LadiesMan' a piece of her mind nagged at her, despite her self-reasoning.

'_He probably won't be home or awake. And it's just some random dude selling old glasses,'_ she thought before caving.

'_Then again…'_

2222222222222222

FanGirl92: hello

LadiesMan217: hi. u interested in buying?

FanGirl92: uh no. im kinda wondering y ur hocking ur grandfathers old stuff on eBay.

LadiesMan217: that's it?

FanGirl92: yep

LadiesMan217: well its 4 my car fund. n its my great-great-grandfathers stuff.

FanGirl92: well that makes it even better. poor guy must b rolling in his grave. u ever hear of a part-time job?

LadiesMan217: had 2. didn't work out. help wanted signs r kinda rare where i live.

FanGirl92: bull. where do u live?

LadiesMan217: y do u want 2 kno?

FanGirl92: relax im not a stalker. im 16 and already have a boy friend

LadiesMan217: ok. Tranquility, Nevada

FanGirl92: ok i believe u. i just moved here 2 days ago n looked everywhere 4 a p-t job

LadiesMan217: here? Tranquility?

FanGirl92: yeah

LadiesMan217: O.O whoa. what school r u going 2?

FanGirl92: i start Tranquility High School on Monday

LadiesMan217: cool same here. Well I go there already u kno. Maybe ill c u there

FanGirl92: maybe. U got a name?

LadiesMan217: Sam Witwicky. U?

FanGirl92: Grace Godwin. y r u selling his glasses?

LadiesMan217: historic value

FanGirl92: T T; what happened 2 sentimental value?

LadiesMan217: like I said its 4 my car fund. I just need 2,000

FanGirl92: just 2,000?

LadiesMan217: my dads paying 4 half. That and I need 3 A's.

FanGirl92: how many u got now?

LadiesMan217: 2. hopefully soon 2 b 3

FanGirl92: well good luck dude. I gotta go. C u on Monday maybe

LadiesMan217: thanks. Hey how will I recognize u?

FanGirl92: girl w/ a scar on the left. Later

LadiesMan217: later

**22222222222222**

Shutting off her computer for the night, Grace pulled herself up to the top bunk and plopped her head down on the pillow. Exhausted, she stared up at the ceiling as her eyelids began to droop. Plans for the next three days played through her mind.

Diego would go back to the Ice Age in the morning. Grace would have breakfast before heading to Beatrix's home and help finish with unpacking, or keep an eye on BiBi outside. Maybe she would stay for lunch. Head back home. Feed Crookshanks, Pig, Athena, Dusk, and Neko . . .

Then what?

Sleep almost took over before a suggestion came to mind.

'_Maybe I'll e-mail Sam Witwicky.'_

Witwicky…

'_Why does that name sound familiar?'_

**22222222222222**

_She was five years old._

_Her bright hazel green eyes were wide with awe. It was almost night and the setting sun made the sky look like fire. It was also her first time in New York City. It was the year 1897, but it didn't matter to her. She considered herself lucky she was even allowed to be there. After hours of begging, promising, compromising, and arguing with Basil, he reluctantly let the girl come along when he and Dr. Dawson were called on a case in America. The detective later admitted that having the human child accompany them was a good idea._

_At the moment however…_

"_I'm gonna get a newspaper."_

_The mouse detective repressed an aggravated sigh, reminding himself Grace was still just a child. Carefully he peered out from his hiding spot in the girl's scarf. Her light brown hair was down, so he was easily hidden from other humans._

"_Can't you wait, Grace?" he whispered. "We're supposed to meet Dawson back at the hotel and we're going to be late. Besides, you don't have any money."_

"_I know," she whispered back. "I got an idea."_

"_Does it involve picking a man's pocket, __**again**__?"_

"_No. And that wasn't me!" she hissed._

_Walking up to a newsstand, she spotted a man about to purchase one. Taking a deep breath, Grace gave the man's coat a small tug._

"_Excuse me, sir."_

_Both men looked down at the girl with some surprise._

_Or in the salesman's case, slight annoyance._

'_Here goes.' Using a tone of voice she perfected quickly in her short life, Grace set her idea in motion._

"_My uncle asked me to get him a newspaper, but I lost the money he gave me to buy it. Can you help me?"_

_From inside the girl's scarf, Basil had to give her credit. The tone of voice she used was one that either got her out of some trouble or a treat._

_Add her age and whatever the girl had in mind could work._

_The salesman grunted. "Hmph. Probably spent it all on sweets."_

_The child stiffened with indignation at the comment, but held back any retorts that came to mind. The gentleman glanced at the salesman for at moment. _

"_Who hasn't at her age?" he stated with some amusement before addressing Grace. "How old are you, miss?"_

"_I turn six next month, sir." She answered sweetly._

"_And your uncle asked you to get the paper?"_

"_Yes, sir. He can't get out of bed for a while and both of my parents are out of town." She lied._

"_I see," he stared at her for a moment before speaking. "Well, aside from losing the money, you must be quite the responsible young lady."_

_Playing into the role, Grace let out a shy giggle at the compliment._

"_Now, which newspaper does your uncle read?" the man asked._

_Grace fought back the feeling of satisfaction and answered. "The New York Journal, sir."_

"_Very well, then," the gentleman was about to hand the requested paper to the girl when him stopped with an odd expression on his features. _

"_Oh my."_

_She stiffed._

_Did he see Basil?_

_Forcing herself to keep calm, Grace calmly asked. "What?"_

_As if jerking out of a trance, the man looked the child in the eye and shook his head with a kind smile. _

"_Oh, it's nothing," he answered. Handing the paper to Grace, he gave her a small pat on her shoulder. "You should run along now. It's getting dark and I'm afraid these streets aren't quite safe for children at night."_

"_Okay."_

_Finishing her performance, (and remembering her manners) Grace thanked the man with a sweet smile and walked back to the alley, her current caretaker safely hidden._

_Neither the child nor the detective noticed the sudden slight change in their surroundings or the street they just left fading away into a wall._

_All Grace noticed was the slight chill down her spine._

22222222222222222

_Back at the hotel, Grace had shrunk to the appropriate size for the room and was now sitting on the sofa, her feet dangling just above the floor as she swung them back and forth. Basil was sitting at the table nearby, his associate Dr. Dawson on the other side reviewing their notes. Basil glanced over at the human girl. _

"_Why on earth did you want a newspaper?"_

_Grace shrugged._ "_I dunno. For some reason I just did."_

_The girl had said paper on her small lap. Hazel green eyes nervously shifted from the headline to her friends. She opened her mouth to speak, but not wanting to disturb their work, closed it and remained silent. She almost jumped out of her skin when Basil spoke to her._

"_If you're going to say something, go ahead and say it."_

"_Sorry. Didn't wanna bug you."_

"_We're only going over the police reports. If you have something to say, say it."_

_Grace chewed on her lip a little before speaking quietly. _"_Okay then. Can you help me read this?"_

_Silence met her ears, making her cheeks go pink with some embarrassment as she looked down at the floor._

"_You can read it yourself, can't you?"_

_Basil didn't think twice about his words._

_Grace was very well read for her age, but she was still five years old._

_There were still limits._

"_There's some words in this article I can't pronounce." She explained sheepishly._

_With a resignated sigh, Basil walked over and took a seat next to Grace, who promptly handed the front page to him and pointed to the headline. The bold print screamed out;_

_**ARCTIC EXPLORER ALLAGESE ICEMAN FOUND.**_

_The detective raised an eyebrow at the article. "Why would this be news?"_

_Grace shrugged. "Slow news day? Although I think that's what that guy was staring at earlier. Anyway," she pointed to a section of the article._

"_I can't say this name…"_

22222222222222222

Grace shot up in her bed, very wide awake.

Witwicky…

'_No way.'_

It couldn't be…

Her mind racing, she quickly jumped down from the top bunk, landing on her feet with a loud thud before rushing to her closet.

"Hey…what the…?"

The commotion woke up the saber-tooth tiger again. Grace ignored his grumbling and started digging through the upper shelves of the walk-in closet.

"Where is it?" she muttered to herself. "…know I put it some…oh right. _Accio key_."

A small case shot out from a corner of the room and into the palm of her hand. With a huge yawn, Diego stepped down from the bottom bunk, taking care not to disturb Neko and Dusk, and padded over to the witch.

'_Might as well see what she's worked up about,'_ he thought. _'It'd better be something important.' _When the saber reached her, he sat down near the closet door and stared at Grace, eyes narrowed. "What're you doing?"

"Sorry I woke you," she whispered over her shoulder as she pushed a stack of papers off of a box on the closet floor. "Something came up."

"Better be important." He growled.

This time, Grace stopped and looked at him. "What's wrong with you?"

Deigo shook his head. "Nothing. Sorry. I'm just tired."

"Crash and Eddie?" she deadpanned.

"They had to be nocturnal."

She gave him an understanding smile before opening the case in her hands and pulling out a small silver and gold key.

"Well," Grace spoke quietly. "It's in their nature. Like it's in your nature to hunt. And be an overprotective hairball."

The last part was said almost silently, but Diego heard.

"Hey!"

"Well you are. Or at least use to be."

"Yeah. Key words 'use to'. I've been giving you space, haven't I? What's in there, anyway?"

In front of the girl was a green leather trunk. The once spotless material was scratched, scorched and colored on all sides. Securing the container were two brown leather straps with silver buckles and a strange looking lock. It was gold in the shape of a sun with a silver crescent moon inside of it. Despite all of the years of wear and tear on the rest of the trunk, the lock appeared to be brand-new.

Unlocking the container, Grace carefully unbuckled the worn straps before opening the lid. A distinct scent of old crayons, dust and old paper hit both of their heightened sense of smell, causing the two to cough a bit.

"What the heck is in there?"

Grace waved away some of the airborne dust. "Old papers, stuff from when I was little…y'know, just old mementos from before I was eight."

"Why do humans keep things like that?"

She paused, thought for a moment then shrugged. "You know, I have no idea."

The saber-tooth rolled his eyes. "Alright, so what's in that box that you suddenly have to find?"

Grace ignored him and began to search through the fragile contents until she found it.

Near the bottom of the trunk was a newspaper.

Carefully pulling it out, she lightly smoothed any creases on the article. The paper was turning yellow with time, but the printed words were as clear as the moment they came off the press.

The paper was The New York Journal.

The date printed on the corner was 1897.

Just as it did back then, the main headline screamed out;

'_**ARCTIC EXPLORER ALLAGES ICEMAN FOUND.**_ '

Scanning the first paragraph, Grace's eyes went wide in surprise as a memory of a conversation came back.

"_I can't really say this guy's name. Arch-eye-bald W…"_

"_Here. Captain Archibald Witwicky."_

* * *

**Ah. What will happen next, she wonders.**

**Anyways… you don't have to, but if you could take the trouble and push the little button over there for reviews, I'd really appreciate it.**

**And I just might update faster**

**Or at least try to.**


	4. Chapter 3: Sam Witwicky

Disclaimer: I own Grace and Jess. That's it. If I owned Transformers, movie version or otherwise, I'd be the happiest girl in the world.

Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 3: Sam Witwicky**

The late morning bell echoed in the hallways of Tranquility High School as students rushed to their homeroom classes. Among them, a girl was leaning against a vacant wall, effectively avoiding the crowd and looking over the schedule in her hand.

"Alright…"she murmured to herself. "Homeroom 223 is…that way."

Re-adjusting the bag strap on her shoulder, she quickly walked down the almost empty hall, glancing at each door for the number. The remaining students stared at the girl walking past them. Tranquility wasn't that small of a town, but they could tell this was a new student. She was kind of cute as well.

But the reason they stared was a scar, vertically etched down the left side of her face, just barely skipping her hazel green eye.

**3333333333333333333**

It was a typical Monday morning in homeroom to Samuel Witwicky. The morning announcements blurred into the usual senseless buzz as his attention focused on other, more important, matters.

Particularly, the girl sitting a few mere seats away.

Mikaela Banes.

No matter how many times he saw her, whether at school or around town, Sam would still manage to forget to breathe properly.

Only two small problems kept Sam from asking out the goddess-like being out.

One; she was so far out of his league it wasn't funny.

And two; she was already dating the star of the football team and Grade-A Jackass of the Year, Trent DeMarco.

The voice of the homeroom teacher broke though Sam's train of thought and above the voices of other students.

"Alright people, settle down," When the scarce chatter finally died down, he continued. "Thank you. Now, I'm pleased to announce that we have a new student joining us. Who, apparently, is running a li'l late…"

That really got Sam's attention, along with that of the rest of the class.

New student?

Was it that girl, Grace?

She did say she was starting school today.

"Now, she's from New York, but she moved here from England. So-."

Before the teacher went on any further, the classroom door was practically ripped open, promptly cutting him off.

"Sorry I'm late!"

Every head in the class simultaneously turned straight to the doorway, all eyes, including Sam's, wide with surprise.

Standing there with a sheepish grin was a girl around his age. Hazel green eyes looked around bright and alert, meeting those of the class. Long light brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail with a few loose strands framing her face. A copper-orange, Chinese-style dragon was drawn with marker on the left leg of faded blue jeans decorated with a black belt with silver studs. A short-sleeved, army-green jacket was worn open over a white long-sleeved shirt that stopped just above her wrists. The only jewelry she was wearing was a jade beaded bracelet on her right wrist, a watch on the left, three silver studs on each ear and an emerald amulet on a gold chain around her neck. White sneakers squeaked a little on the classroom floor as she walked to the front of the room. Looking around the room, she nervously adjust the strap of a black messenger bag slung over her right shoulder.

What caught everyone's eye, especially Sam's, was a pale scar etched vertically down the left side of her face, starting just above her eyebrow, barely missing her eye and ending at the jaw.

"Right. Everyone this is Katherine Godwin. If you go by anything else, let me know."

"I prefer my middle name, Grace." Sam swore he hear a very faint accect.

"Alright then, Grace. I believe there's an empty seat next to Sam. Sam?"

The teen blinked out of his stupor and waved his hand.

"Thanks." She walked to her desk, ignoring the stares, and sat down on the only available seat to Sam's left. Almost immediately, one of Mikaela's friends turned in her seat and spoke to Grace.

"So, you're from England, huh?"

Grace blinked in surprise before answering. "I moved here _from_ England, yeah."

"Really? You don't sound like it."

Sam thought he saw the new girl tense up. The knuckles on hand holding her bag began to turn white and her jaw clenched. She looked like she was about to knock the other girl's teeth out. Thankfully for everyone, Mikaela noticed and turned to her friend.

"Jess, Mr. Stuart just said she lived in New York _then _moved to England before coming here."

"Oh, right. Whatever," Shrugging, Jess started talking to Grace again. "Hey, you wanna sit with us at lunch?"

Grace gave a polite smile that didn't reach her eyes, one that clearly screamed out 'I'd rather drink acid'. Aloud, she said evenly. "I'll think about it."

Then she faced Sam.

The smile she gave him and the tone she used was a friendly one that simply said 'Hello'.

"Hi."

**333333333333333333333**

The rest of the day up until lunch went by quickly. The new girl, Grace, was in almost all of Sam's classes, sitting near or next to him. It was lunch when he finally got to talk to her. When she entered the cafeteria, she walked right past the table that held the chattering group of girls, blatantly ignoring Jess' waved invites, and made a bee-line right over to Sam.

"Anyone sitting here?"

He looked up from his lunch. The new girl was standing right in front of him, a tin lunchbox held loosely in her hand.

"FanGal92?" he asked.

"I believe I told you, and everyone else in class, its Grace, _LadiesMan,_" She replied with a slight smirk "Again, is this seat taken?"

"No, go ahead."

Sliding into the chair across from him, she pulled out an apple from her lunchbox.

"So, you moved here from England?" Sam asked, trying to make conversation.

"Yeah, for about the twentieth time in my life" she answered before biting into the apple.

"Twentieth?"

Grace shrugged and swallowed before answering. "I move around a lot. Hopefully, this'll be the last time."

"Just you or…?"

"Just me. It's okay. I've got family scattered all over the place," she answered simply. "Well, except Antarctica."

Sam let out a chuckle. "So, who're you staying with?"

"My aunt and cousin just moved here, so I live near them."

This time Sam stared. "Wait, by yourself?"

Grace shrugged again. "Whenever I move, I'd stay with relatives or by myself." She answered casually.

Sam watched in some disbelief as Grace continued to eat, acting as though they had just talked about the weather.

"Right," he said with a hint of skepticism. "What about your parents?"

"They're in England. I write to them loads of times."

"What about school?" he asked. "With you moving around, it had to be kinda confusing."

"Not really," she replied. "Went to two private schools, dropped out of both."

"Why?"

"First one, headmistress was an undeniably uptight bitch who pretty much hated my guts and was gonna kick me out anyway."

"And the second one?"

"Headmaster died."

Sam winced a little. "You left because of that?"

"He was a family friend." Grace answered quietly.

"Oh," Sam mentally slapped himself before stammering an apology. "I-I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

"It's okay. You didn't know. It was a while ago, anyway," Grace gave a slight wave of her before changing the subject. "The rest of the time I was home schooled."

"Huh. Sounds cool."

Grace snorted. "Yeah, right. One of my uncles is a college professor. You can imagine what that'd be like."

Sam gave a small chuckle. "Okay, maybe not so cool. So what's Eng…lan…li…" he trailed off, dark brown eyes focused on something else.

"Sam?"

Nothing.

Grace waved her hand in front of his face. "Hellllloooo. Earth to Sam. You there, man?"

Still nothing.

Looking around, she quickly found what had captured the young man's full attention.

Walking right past them was the girl who helped her out in homeroom and was also in most of her classes, Mikaela Banes.

Grace couldn't help but raise one eyebrow as she did the math.

'_Ah.' _Aloud, she asked casually. "I take it you like her?"

"Huh?" Sam was still in his temporary daze.

Grace smirked to herself. "I'll take that as a yes."

The look on Sam's face should've been obvious to her. After all, she's seen it God knows how many times on the features of most of her 'relatives'. Hell, even she's been on the receiving end of it. She was just a little bothered that she didn't notice in the first place. '_Meh, I'm probably just a li'l tired.'_

After a minute, she snapped her fingers in front of Sam. "Yo! Witwicky!"

Sam jerked himself out of his self-induced trance. "Huh? What?"

"Y'kinda zoned out on me there, dude." She stifled a giggle when his face went slightly pink.

"Oh. Sorry 'bout that."

"Happens all the time. Trust me."

The two resumed eating their lunch in silence when Grace swallowed the remaining bite of her apple and examined the core before speaking.

"So, you like her?" she asked again.

"Huh?" Sam looked up from his lunch. "Who?"

"You know. Mikaela Banes. She's in like almost all of our classes. You stare at her long after she answers a teacher's question," she said with a grin. "You like her, don't ya?"

"Well...yeah, a little." he muttered.

"Have you tried askin' her out?" she prepared to throw the core into the trash can a few feet away.

"Well, I've thought about it," Sam admitted. "But…"

"But what?" she drew her arm back, the rim of the waste canister dead in her sights.

"I can't."

"You ever tried?"

"No."

"What?" Grace seemed so startled by his answer her normally astounding aim was off as she threw the core. The two watched as it flew right over the trash can before hitting a head of dirty blonde hair.

"HEY!"

It was Jess.

"Oops."

Grace quickly turned in her chair and kicked Sam under the table, who promptly looked back at her with surprise. Before he could open his mouth to speak, a loud voice echoed over the usual lunchroom chatter.

"HEY! WHO THREW THIS?"

Sam looked up again. Standing and glaring at her fellow classmates, Jess held the remains of the apple in her hand. Everyone had turned facing her, including Grace with some feigned surprise, before resuming their lunch or whatever they were doing. Looking back to the girl across from him, Sam asked, "What was that for?"

"What?"

"You kicked me after you threw the apple at Jess."

"Okay, first of all, that was a misfire," she explained. "Second, if you were still looking at her after I threw it, she would've automatically assumed _you_ threw it."

Sam raised his eyebrows. "So, you kicked my leg to make me look at you so no one thinks I threw something."

"And so when she yells about it, you look around like everyone else and no ones the wiser. And sorry about the kicking your leg part." She finished.

"Uh...huh," Sam did see some logic in that. "Has something like this ever happen to you before?" he asked.

"Ah, I think four or five times," she answered casually. "Now back to my question; why haven't you asked Mikaela out?"

"I told you, I can't." Sam answered, hoping she'll let the matter drop.

No such luck.

"Sam, c'mon. What's holding ya back?" Grace asked.

"What are you? My personal Cupid?"

To his surprise, Grace slapped her hands over her mouth, muffling her laughter. If they were alone, she probably would be falling out of her chair.

"Well," she said in between giggles. "That's something I haven't been called before." She calmed herself down before asking again. "Well? What is it?"

"You're still gonna bug me about it?"

"Yep." Grace answered with a cheeky grin.

Sam blew out a sigh of defeat before speaking. "Alright. You're gonna think it's stupid though."

"I won't. And I think I've heard worse."

He took a deep breath before answering. "His name's Trent DeMarco."

She stared at him with her mouth agape. "Trent DeMarco?" Grace asked in apparent disbelief. "As in the bone-head who sits two seats away from me in Health?"

Sam let out a small chuckle. "Yeah. They're dating."

Grace grimaced before casting a glance over where Mikaela was sitting. Sure enough, said 'bone-head' was sitting next to her, one arm over her shoulder.

"Hm, poor girl. I didn't think she was dating already. I mean, I did, but not _him_," Grace observed. "She doesn't seem too happy about it, if you ask me."

"How would you know?" Sam asked. _'What, is this girl psychic now?'_

Grace smiled coyly. _'Oh-ho, if only you knew, Sammy. If only you knew.' _Aloud she said. "When you've been all over the place an' around different people, you get a feel for this kinda th-."

Anything else Grace might have said was cut off by the bell. Looking down at her wristwatch, the girl's eyes widened.

"Holy shit, that was quick."

The two gathered their things and threw away their trash before heading to the lunchroom door.

"What's your next class?" Sam asked.

"Let's see…um…" Grace quickly searched through her bag before pulling out her schedule. "Next class is Art, then I have History with Mr. Hosney after that," she faced Sam, who had a strange look on his face. "What?"

"You sure you're not stalking me?"

"Yeah, pretty sure," she answered. "Why? You have the same class?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah, except for art class."

Grace looked at her schedule again, then back up at him. "Okay, this is getting li'l weird." She muttered to herself.

"What?"

Grace shook her own head. "Nothing. Just thinking out loud. C'mon, we're gonna be late."

* * *

Don't worry, Gracie. Thing's always get weirder.

Especially around you.

Next chapter; A prank from old friends have Grace temporarily moving out of her permanent home and looking for yet another place to stay for a few days.

Just for the record, I enjoy giving her a hard time once in a while.


	5. Chapter 4: Losing Sanity? Maybe

**One…two…three. Paper!**

**Grace: Scissors.**

**Dammit!**

**Grace: YAY!!! I get to do the disclaimer!!! Hawklover90 does not and never will own Transformers. Or Kill Bill for that matter. This story was written for entertainment proposes only and I am the only unfortunate product for her warped li'l mind.**

**HEY!!!**

**Grace: Okay, Jess is too. I can't imagine for the life of me why she thought that bitchy airhead up, though. Must've been one of those plot bunnies again.**

**Hey. The author's are the ones who are supposed to complain about them. **

**Grace: Yeah, but me and any other poor sap in the fiction world have to go though the crap you come up with **_**because**_** of them. **

**Hmm…you got a good point there. Oh well. Like you said, I have a warped li'l mind. Deal with it.**

**Grace: You're mean!! **

**And you're makin' me take up all my writing space. So shut it and ask anyone reading this to send a review.**

**Grace: Fine. Please send Hawklover90 reviews. Reviews make her happy, up-date quicker, and finish a lot faster so I can get over whatever mess she's got me in this time.**

**You won't think like that later in the story.**

**Grace: Why? How come?**

**I'm not telling! I'll spoil it for everyone!**

**Grace: Aw, come on! Just a li'l hint? Please? Please? Puh-leeeeaaaaaaaassse??**

**No.**

**Grace: Meanie.**

**Deal with it. **

**Enjoy!**

**44444444444444444444444444444444444444444444444444444444444444**

**Chapter 4: Losing Sanity? Maybe…**

Two days went by with the usual high school routine, aside from the weird coincidences in her class schedule. Grace relished the experience of going to a normal school and mingling with regular kids around or exactly her own age.

Particularly two of her classmates, Sam Witwicky and Mikaela Banes.

So far, the two seemed to be nicer than the other kids she had trouble with in her childhood. Grace didn't like getting her hopes up too much, but they were probably the first real "normal" friends she's had ever had since elementary school. Most of the other students were easy to get along with as well, Miles Lancaster, Sam's best friend, being one of them.

Some of the other students, on the other hand, could jump off the Hoover Dam for all she cared.

Trent and his pack of immature cronies almost reminded her of someone she didn't care for, she was half tempted to bash his face in. Because he was dating Mikaela, she was a least polite to him.

Jessica Malloy, however, she had to restrain herself from tearing her fellow classmate limb from limb after the first two days.

And Grace didn't even want to at first.

After the apple-core-misfire incident, Jess had automatically (and unknowingly, correctly) assumed Grace was the culprit and made it her goal for the semester to make the new student's life a living social hell. Mikaela, on the other hand, had taken a small, although secret, liking to Grace and managed to talk the other girl out most of her attempts.

As for the rest of Jess' ideas, Grace did either one of three things. 1) Laughed it off. 2) Ignored it. Or 3) had it completely backfire.

Grace had taken a few simple steps to hide most of her scars, but she left the one on her face uncovered as always.

It _was_ an excellent conversation starter.

When Jess made fun of it after that first lunch, Grace quickly joked back.

"Actually, I'm thinking about trying out for 'Scarface 2'. I've got the number of this great agent. If you want, I could give it to you. I'm sure he can get you the main role in the next 'Nightmare on Elm Street' movie. With your face, the producers could save a lot of money and use it for something other than a bunch of extra Freddy Kruger masks."

She resumed her walk to her next class leaving a group of snickering or outright laughing students and a dumbstruck and livid Jess in the hall.

The next day was both ignored and a complete backfire. At lunch, Grace was on her way to the table where Sam and Miles were sitting when she suddenly tripped. Rather than twist and land on her feet in style, Grace allowed herself to fall flat on her face to the floor.

Sam came over to help her stand and pick up her fallen books and lunchbox while Mikaela glared at Jess. The dark haired girl was about to reprimand her friend when Grace spoke up for everyone close enough to hear.

"My bad. Guess today's one of my clumsy days," she said with an embarrassed chuckle. "They've been happening a lot lately."

She then thanked Sam for helping with her things, said hello to Mikaela (and Trent, just to be polite), then sat down next to Miles as if nothing happened. She didn't say a word or even look at Jess. It was later in Art class that the line was crossed.

**44444444444444444444444**

The day Grace arrived, Mikaela learned they both had the same art class. It was there she saw first-hand the new girl's talent, which Grace repeatedly insisted she still needed to work on. After lunch, it was a free-project week and while Mikaela worked on an oil painting, Grace was drawing in a sketchbook she brought from home. Curious as to what the new girl was working on, Mikaela looked over at the sketch.

The drawing was a hallway with two people, from the sizes most likely an adult and child, walking. For a rough sketch, it had quite a few details already. And it was just the first ten minutes of class.

"Wow, that's really…"

Before Mikaela could finish her compliment, dark red paint was suddenly spilled, no, _dumped_ on Grace from behind, splattering all over her shirt and hair. Most of the paint landed on her sketchbook and the unfinished drawing. Quickly turning to face the culprit, Mikaela saw a smirking Jess with a mostly empty bucket of red paint in her hands.

"Oops, my bad," she giggled mockingly. "Guess today's one of my clumsy days."

Grace didn't say a word.

She didn't have to.

She just stared at the red splattered sketchbook, her hands just barely trembling and twitching.

That miserable, stuck-up, unbelievable _bitch_! That drawing was going to be her house-warming present for BiBi. She was going to put everything she had into it and that…_skank_ ruined the rough outline she had! Just what the hell had she done to her to deserve her contempt, anyway?

A muscle in Grace's hand twitched again. Her vision saw only red. Her ears roared, blocking out other sounds except that damned mocking giggle. Every irrational fiber in her body screamed, begging her to throw all caution and restraint out the window, close her twitching hand into a fist and bury it in the blonde's nose and mouth. Attack her with such ferocity that would make even Gaara tremble in fear. Maybe she would knock some of those damned prefect straight teeth out. Or snap her neck in two…

Grace was ready to give into that instinct when a voice broke through her ears, instantly evaporating the red haze and bringing Jess' mocking giggle to a grinding halt.

"_Jessica, what the __**hell**__ is your problem?!"_

Grace blinked and looked up, tearing her eyes away from the ruined book.

There was Mikaela, standing over her. When did she…?

Oh right, she sat down next to her at the beginning of class. She was about to say something about her drawing, too.

Mikaela obviously wasn't spared from the mess. Her shirt, arms, and jeans had red paint splattered on them. There was even some on her face and in her dark hair. At the moment, the girl was facing her "friend", ice blue eyes narrowed in a cutting glare and thin hands balled up in tight fists.

Jess paid little attention to the glare and promptly switched to and apologetic tone.

"Omigosh! Mikaela, I am _so_ sorry! I didn't mean to splash you! I didn't know you were sitting there!"

"Then why the hell did you do it anyway?!" Mikaela demanded. "If you say this was because of what happened at lunch yesterday, you'll be worse than a sixth grader!"

"'Worse'?" this time it was another student, one whose name Grace didn't catch yet. "My cousin acts more mature and he's almost two."

Grace could only stare at the scene. Here she was covered in red paint, probably looked near tears, and someone was openly sticking up for her.

Jess looked shocked, then glared. "Why are you defending her anyway?" she asked Mikaela. "She's the one who threw something at me. She started it!"

'_Okay, this is getting ridiculous.'_ This time Grace answered calmly.

"It was an accident. You were sitting next to the trash cans, something surprised me and threw my aim off. If you want to be technical, it's really your own fault and if you're holding a grudge against that, you're wasting your time and mine. Now if you'll excuse me." She stood from her seat and walked out of the art room, still holding her ruined book.

'_Well, things can't get any worse,' _she thought. _'I feel sorry for the janitor though. Or whoever they'll get to clean that up. That li'l bit--.'_

"Hey."

The girl spun around at the voice. It was Mikaela, holding Grace's things and her own.

"The bathroom's down there," she pointed to the hallway Grace just passed. "You need any help cleaning up?"

Grace thought for a moment. She could wash the paint off herself, but there were some parts she did need help with. Remaining silent, she nodded.

Soon Grace was sitting on the restroom counter feeling strangely like a ten-year-old after a muddy game of football. When the two entered the empty facilities, Mikaela promptly asked her to sit on the counter before pulling out a towel from her own bag, wetting a corner of it and cleaning the paint off of herself, muttering under her breath about the gull Jess had at times. Now she was currently washing the red paint off of the other girl's arm, giving her a look that Grace was all too familiar with.

_Sit still and let me help._

It was useless to argue with that look, so Grace just kept still and stared blankly at the book now in her lap while the other girl gently held her arm and rubbed the wet towel over it. Surprisingly, this was calming her down. Usually if someone, friend or otherwise, trashed any of her drawings and sketchbooks, Grace would be hostile towards almost everyone around her and not speak to the offender for a week.

'_Then again,' _Grace reasoned after a few minutes. _'I can't afford to act normally around here right now. Doubt anyone here takes empty death threats and small objects flying around or exploding lightly.'_

"So," Mikaela began, trying to break the ice. "Aside from…well, this, how do you like it here?"

The other girl shrugged. "Other than the occasional idiots, this place is pretty cool. It's quiet, but nice."

It was true. Other places Grace had been were either far too quiet, not in a comfortable time period, or too crazy for her tastes. That and the occasional idiots who tried to kill her because of her involvement with whoever ruined their evil plan of the day.

"Make any friends here, yet?"

Grace jerked out of her thoughts at Mikaela's question. "Yeah, a few."

It was quiet again, the dark haired girl now moving to the back. Not for the first time, Grace thanked every holy being she knew for whoever invented holo-grams. The last thing she wanted today was for someone to get the wrong idea about how she received her scars, _again_.

'_Gotta remember to thank Abbey for the holo-bracelet, too.' _She reminded herself, biting back a smile.

"This ever happen to you before?" Mikaela asked.

"Three times."She answered plainly.

Mikaela looked over at her with sympathy. Grace saw this and rolled her eyes.

"And save the pity party. The first time was some bully in elementary school. The other two were pranks my cousins pulled, which they already paid for in full."

"Oh," Finally finished, Mikaela wrung the extra water out her towel and put it away. "You said that you lived near your aunt's place. Do those cousins live with her?"

"Nope. One's in the west coast, the other's in the mid-west."

"Do you miss them?"

Grace shrugged. "Yeah, sometimes. They get on my nerves, but they're cool," She pointed to the bag in Mikaela's hand. "So why'd you have a towel?"

"Oh, I was gonna go swimming with the others after school." Mikaela answered offhandedly.

"You mean your friends?"

Mikaela paused for a moment, as if thinking of an appropriate answer, then nodded. "Yeah. I guess."

The witch, eager to change the subject, said, "Hey, do you know someone named Sam Witwicky?"

The other girl looked at her curiously. "No, I don't think I do."

Grace had to admit she handled the surprise of that response better than she usually did. And it was a bit more surprising than what Sam had told her the other day.

"Why do you ask?" Mikaela continued.

Grace shrugged. "No reason. Just curious. I mean he's in some of the same classes as us, so I thought you've seen him around," she hopped off the counter. "Thanks for the help."

"No problem," Mikaela slung her bag over her shoulder. "You think he's cute?"

"What?" Grace looked up from her own bag. "Well, I'll admit he kinda is, in a cool-yet-dorky kinda way. But I'm already seeing someone."

"Oh."

Grace had to stop herself from suggesting that Mikaela could ask Sam out. She was already with someone else and Grace made a point of not interfering with that kind of relationship.

'_You know the rules, Grace. No messing with personal lives until you know them better or have to.'_

It was a shame though. They would make a rather good couple. A cute one, too.

"So what's your deal with Trent?" Mikaela asked changing the subject.

"Huh?" Grace quickly jerked herself out of her thoughts. This was happening more often than she was comfortable with. "What do you mean?"

"You don't seem to like Trent," the other girl elaborated. "You're polite to him, but you don't like him. Did he bother you or anything like…?"

"Oh, no. No, he didn't," Grace answered with a wave. "He just kinda reminds me of someone I really didn't like. Still don't, actually."

"Who?" Mikaela asked, curious.

"Just some guy that use to hit on one of my aunts when I was little," Grace answered calmly. "It was a long time ago, though. He died a couple weeks or so after I met him."

The other girl winced a little hearing this. Catching the look, Grace rolled her eyes. "He fell off a cliff after trying to kill my aunt's fiancé, so don't worry about it. Even as a toddler, I thought he was a bastard."

"Ah."

The awkward silence that followed was so broken by the bell.

"Time for English," Grace walked pass Mikaela and held open the door. "Coming?"

"Oh. Yeah."

"So, where do you guys go to swim around here?"

She seemed so upbeat that neither Sam nor Mikaela could picture her angry. That was probably why the next day threw them for a loop.

**444444444444444444444444**

Sam was quite surprised when Grace practically stormed into the classroom with a scowl and a glare that promised a slow and agonizing death for anyone who so much as looked at her the wrong way. When she sat down in her desk, Sam asked carefully. "Is everything okay?"

He nearly jumped when he thought he heard a quiet growl echo from her before she answered in a barely contained tone.

"I'll tell you at lunch."

Taking the advice, he waited until lunchtime to ask why the girl was suddenly so hostile. By then, Grace seemed calmer and less likely to bite someone's head off.

"So," Miles started. "What happened?"

"Four of my cousins decided to pay my house a little visit yesterday."

"Oh," Sam glanced over at Miles before going on. "That sounds…cool?"

They both nearly jumped when Grace looked up from her lunch with a glare. If looks could kill, Sam guessed they would already be in their graves right now. Then the glare faded, being replaced by a look he could only describe as a cross between 'mildly disappointed', 'annoyed beyond anything', and 'pissed off'.

In a calm voice, Grace explained. "Technically, only two of them came. The other two are family friends who live near London. One thought it'd be funny to set off a few stinkbombs the other two made and the other had the bright idea of putting a tent over my house to lock in the fumes."

"A tent?"

"Yeah, you know the kind exterminators use when they're spraying a place," Sam explained. "My dad had to hire one last summer for termites, remember?"

"Oh yeah," Miles looked back at Grace. "So, did they get in trouble?"

"Not yet," Grace said. "Now I have to find a hotel that's near the school for the next few weeks. Or 'til the house airs out."

"A hotel?" Sam asked.

"Can't you stay with your aunt?" Miles asked.

"She's spending the week in Vegas with my cousin," Grace sighed. "Only in the tame parts, though."

"There's a tame part?" Sam joked.

For the first time all day, she let out a small chuckle. "Yeah, believe it or not. There's some museums, playgrounds, and I think there's a huge arcade, too. That and that ceiling with the light show."

"Geez," Miles whistled. "The lady must be loaded to afford a week long trip like that."

Grace tugged at her wristband and slightly nodded. "Yeah, kinda." She said, keeping any hesitation from her tone.

Truthfully, she had chipped in some of the money Lara had given her and was close to ordering Beatrix to spend some time off with her daughter before looking for a job.

Of course, she didn't foresee her temporary lack of housing and turned down the woman's offer of her spare house key. She could always try to break in. _'Although if I did, someone might see me an' call the cops,'_ she reasoned. _'That and she probably set up God-knows-how-many traps in case some poor idiot actually tries to.'_

"Hellllooooo. Anyone home?" a hand waved in front of her eyes.

"Huh?" Grace blinked and looked at the two boys. "What?"

"Are you okay?" Sam asked. "You kind of spaced out for a minute."

The girl felt her cheeks go pink with embarrassment. "Oh. Sorry about that."

"S'okay," Miles shrugged. "Happens to everyone sometimes."

'_Yeah, well this is happening way more than usual,'_ Grace thought worriedly. _'Maybe I finally lost it…'_

"Like I was saying," Miles continued. "Why don't you stay with another relative? Or your parents?"

"My parents are in England," Grace sighed. "And the nearest relative I have lives near LA."

"Oh," He glanced over at his friend. "Well, there aren't any hotels near the school or any bus stops if that's what you're counting on."

The witch pinched the bridge of her nose with a scowl and closed her eyes keeping herself as calm as possible. Dammit, here it comes. The headache that went straight to migraine.

She was going to hurt Bart and Beast Boy the next time she saw them. Fred and George too for giving them the damned stink bombs in the first place.

No, screw that. The very second the opportunity presented itself, she would have four graves already dug and death certificates signed and stamped. She'd even feel a little sorry for the poor sap who would have to sort through the remains.

'_If I leave any, that is._ _You'd think they would've known better after what happened the last time,'_ she thought with a heavy sigh. _'I never thought they'd pull the same stupid stunt twice. Especially after Mrs. Weasley was through with them.'_

"Can't you just open all the windows?" Miles asked. "My dad tried making something with sardines and onions and we had to open all the windows on the first floor. The smell was gone after an hour or so."

The girl opened her eyes and tried not to seem annoyed. "Because their two co-conspirators gave them stink bombs they made themselves," Grace explained. "I don't know how, but the idiots somehow designed them to stink up an area for days or weeks."

Sam's eyes widened a little at the information. "Seriously?"

"You wanna come over for a whiff because I can gladly arrange it."

"Thanks, but I'll pass," the three finished off their lunch with fifteen minutes to spare when Sam spoke again. "Those other two guys, the one's that made the stink bomb, you've known them for a while?"

"Yeah. Their little brother's a friend from my old school." Grace answered truthfully.

"Are they Chem majors or something?"

She couldn't help but smirk. "That's one way of putting it. They usually make their own stuff for pranks so it's mostly trail-and-error." _'Translation; if it doesn't kill or cripple them, it's on sale.'_

"Hey Sam, how 'bout she stays at your place?" Miles asked suddenly.

"Wait, what?" Grace looked at Miles in surprise. Sam's equally surprised gaze went from his friend to her, then back.

"Wha…what?" he managed to say.

"Dude, your mom finished setting up that guest room, right?" Miles asked.

"Well yeah, bu- -."

"Grace, do you know anyone here you can stay with?" He asked her.

"Not really, but- -."

"Sam, are you expecting anyone to stay over in the next couple of weeks?" he interrupted.

"No, but- -."

"And am I ever gonna use it whenever I come over?"

"I doubt it, but- -."

"Then you're all set," Miles said as if he was explaining the most obvious thing in the world. He looked over at Grace to seal the deal. "Sound okay to you?"

Grace feigned hesitation while thinking. On the one hand, she could always just suddenly "remember" there was a family friend living nearby and stay with one of the others. Now that she thought about it, she hasn't been to Minas Tirith in a while, or Jump City.

That and she would have some assistance in nailing the Four Stooges.

On the other hand, Grace had _that _feeling in her gut again. The one that told her something was going to happen. Good or bad, she didn't know. All she could tell was that gut feeling was currently _screaming _at her, telling her something big would happen if she stayed close to Sam Witwicky.

Something _very_ big.

Making up her mind, Grace finally said, "Well, if I call my aunt and explain, she'll be okay with it. I don't wanna intrude though." She added quickly.

Sam, who was trying to talk Miles out of offering his home to stay in, gave up and released a heavy sigh. "I'll have to call my parents, but I think my mom would be okay with you staying 'til your house airs out. And she'd also insist you aren't intruding and wonder why the hell your parents let you stay in a house alone while they're overseas."

Grace felt a twitch in her hand. _'Cool it, Gracie,'_ she scolded herself. _'It wasn't an insult towards them, just curiosity. And another white-lie to think of.'_ Making sure she was completely calm, she gave a small smile. "Thanks Sam."

"Quick question though. Are you allergic to dogs?"

**4444444444444444444444**

The other kids at school were not exaggerating about the hills. The view was gorgeous. The ride up was pretty, too. Grace swung her legs over the edge as she thought about the past few hours.

After school, Sam called his parents informing them of her situation and asking if she could stay over until her house aired out. They sounded uncertain, even when he told them about her 'aunt'. Still, they agreed and the two teens were picked up by Sam's father, Ronald Witwicky. He seemed nice, and his car looked like something Indy might have now.

Thankfully, while Bart and Beast Boy were at times ruthless with some of their pranks, they did take time to prevent collateral damage from said pranks. This time by moving up all of her things and storing them in the basement of Titans Tower, making sure her pets and their supplies were at Lara's, and packing a suitcase and duffle bag for her. When they drove up to the house, Grace couldn't help but stare. It was, well, cute. Two stories, spacious front and backyard, and a garden in the back. Inside, she was immediately introduced to Sam's mother, Judy, and their Chihuahua, Mojo. She greeted Grace with a smile, asking if she wanted something to drink. They asked her the usual questions; about where she moved from and who she lived with. True to Sam's prediction, Judy insisted that Grace stayed with them until Beatrix came back from Vegas and wondered out loud what kind of parents let their teenage daughter who was still in high school travel so far away by herself.

The setting sun warmed her face as she shook her head and dialed the cell number. The dial tone echoed in her ear for a few seconds before it was cut off by a loud click and a familiar voice.

"_Hello?"_

"Hey, Beatrix? It's Grace."

"_Oh, hi Grace. How are you? Is everything okay?"_

"I'm gonna be digging four graves very soon and I have my first high school enemy, but other than that everything's fine."

"_Enemy?"_

"The harmless kind," Grace said, rolling her eyes. "Although I'm sorely tempted to make it bloody at this point."

"_Grace. . ." _Beatrix said reprimanding.

"I know. I know," she sighed. "Just pissed me off, that's all."

"_I'd like to know how someone managed to do that because I know for a fact it takes a lot to. . .Oh, hang on. BiBi wants to talk to you."_

"Okay." Grace smiled and held the phone a few inches away from her ear just before a loud, high voice shrieked from the other line.

"_HI GRACIE!!"_

"Hi BiBi," the witch chuckled, bringing the phone back to her ear. "How's your trip so far?"

"_It's great! Mommy took me everywhere! Except for some parts 'cuz she says I'm not old enough yet."_

"Do you see the ceiling lights?"

"_Yeah!!" _the girl answered cheerfully. _"And we went to the zoo an' it had this really huge slide an' Mommy went down it with me and and then we went to Dairy Queen and Mommy got me a huge sundae with lotsa fudge and a brownie!!"_

'_That would explain the excessive hyperactivity.' _Grace thought. "So I take it you had fun."

"_Yesyesyes!! Do you have to talk to Mommy now?"_

"Yeah, then I have to go, okay sweetie?"

"_Okay," _there was a small sigh before a squeak. _"Hey Gracie?!? Um. . .umum. . .!!"_

"You want me to find out if he'll visit?" Grace asked with a smirk.

"_YES! Please?"_

"We'll see, Kiddo," she chuckled. "But keep in mind, he might be busy, so it might not be right away, okay?"

"_Okay. Here's Mommy. See you in a few days."_

"Make sure you have fun, BiBi," Grace listened as the phone was passed again. When she was sure Beatrix was on the line, she said, "I take it she misses her daily trips."

"_I'm still deciding on whether I should be happy to have more babysitting options and that BiBi is learning a new language and making new friends or using Pai Mei's technique on you."_

"Then I should return the favor. What the hell possessed you to take that kid to Dairy Queen anyway?"

"_Hey, this is m- -."_

"Your first vacation with BiBi," Grace finished. "I know. I'm the one that almost had to order you to go, remember? And you know I don't like ordering people around."

"_Yes, I know. So, you mentioned digging four graves earlier?"_

Grace grit her teeth. "Ah, yes. Do you remember what happened during Springfield's Spring Break?"

"_Which one?"_

"This past one."

There was a short pause, then a groan. _"Okay, what did he do this time?"_

"He and Beast Boy got dung bombs from Fred and George and set them off in my house." Grace said, clenching and unclenching her free hand.

"_Bet you're wishing you had that spare key now, huh?"_ Beatrix chuckled at the younger woman's snarl. _"Alright, calm down. Where are you staying? Lara's? The Institute?"_

"Here. With a friend." Grace said. "The only thing keeping me from leaving this world and putting them in aforementioned graves myself is my gut."

There was a pause, the only sound being a television at almost full volume. Then, _"Your gut."_

"Yes."

"_Hang on a sec."_ the television noise was suddenly silenced and a door closed. _"Alright, what is their name, how old, and where did you meet them?"_

"His name's Sam Witwicky. Yes, another one. He's around my age, looks kinda like Stanley except his hair's shorter, in most of my classes, lives with his parents, has no interest in me as far as romance goes, and I keep getting that vibe around him."

"_You mean the 'something-big-is-going-to-happen' thing?"_

"Big?" Grace snorted. "Try _huge_. And that's not the only thing. I've been zoning out more than usual lately."

"_Alright, are you sleeping okay?"_

"Yes."

"_No nightmares or all nighters? And yes, I'll tell three of your big brothers if you are."_

She rolled her eyes at the warning. "No nightmares recently and I'm going to bed on time."

_Liar._

'_Shut up.' _"Besides, those three shouldn't even be talking." Grace pointed out.

"_Good point," _Beatrix chuckled. _"Hey, where are you? I don't really see you talking about this stuff in front of strangers."_

"I'm on one of the hills near town," she raised her free hand, shielding her eyes from the setting sun. "You should see the view when you come back, it's really beautiful."

"_I'll think about it. You have good reception out there?"_

"Bea, I get four bars in Middle earth," Grace said sheepishly. "I don't think I'm the right person to ask about reception."

The older woman openly laughed on the other end. _"Yet another point you have. Hey, I'm gonna let you go now. If anything does happen, be careful, okay?"_

"Yes ma'am. See you later."

"_See ya."_

Flipping her phone shut, Grace stretched her arms over her head with a yawn. It was getting rather late and the last thing she wanted to do was worry her hosts. Jumping up from the ground, she pocketed the cell and scooped up her fallen helmet. The two pranksters also managed to find a storage area near town to hide her motorcycle, which she chose not to mention to anyone here. Yet.

Earlier, she asked if she could go for a walk, promising to be back before dark, and easily ran to the area on the other side of town, unseen of course.

'_Lucky this thing has an eye cover,' _she thought, examining the helmet before putting it on. _'Don't want anyone from school recognizing me on my rides.'_ Grace sighed in resignation as the tinted plastic fell in front of her eyes. She usually didn't wear her helmet when it was just her on the Firebird and the road was empty, but she saw a patrol car earlier and having a run in with law enforcement and explaining how a sixteen-year-old is driving a motorcycle by herself with no helmet wasn't something Grace planned on doing anytime soon.

Giving a small shrug at the sweaty, but necessary headgear, she started the engine, switched on her iPod plugged into headphones in the helmet, and peeled out onto the empty road, music blaring in her ears on full blast. Despite the loud volume and the roaring engine, Grace easily thought over her talk with her teacher.

'_Glad to hear their having a good time. That woman defiantly needs this. I just hope whatever might happen here doesn't affect them. And what was that voic- -?' _

A flash of yellow in the corner of her eye and a chill shooting down her spine derailed her train of thought and almost threw her off balance. Holding back her panic and the knee-jerk reaction to brake, Grace pulled into the side of the road, nearly skidding to a stop.

"_Shit what was that?!?_" she gasped out. Turning the music and engine off, the witch flipped up the eye cover and looked around as she calmed down from the brief scare.

There. On the other side of the road was a car. An old-school, slightly beat-up, obnoxiously bright yellow Chevrolet Camaro with black racing stripes, looking right at her.

'_Don't be ridiculous,' _she thought shaking her head. _'It's not __looking__ at me. It's just parked like that.'_

She was still unnerved, however. Maybe it was the unexpected appearance of the car or the fact that the hair on her arms and the back of her neck were standing straight up and she felt cold despite the fact she was wearing a black leather jacket and the outside temperature was pushing mid-ninties.

"What the hell?" she whispered.

She nearly jumped out of her seat when without warning, its engine roared to life and the Camaro sped down the deserted road, leaving the stunned young woman behind.

The was no sign of a driver or any passengers in the Camaro.

It was empty.

"Oooooohhh. . . kaaaaaay. . ." she said a bit dazed. "Either it's haunted or I owe Raven ten bucks because I've officially lost my- -."

_Hope she isn't injured. Maybe I should contact a medical center. No, she didn't appear injured on my scans._

". . .mind?" the last word came out as a squeak. _'Oh my. . .what was. . .? Who was. . .?!'_

Shaking her head fiercely, Grace restarted her motorcycle, not bothering with the visor, and sped off.

**44444444444444444444444444444**

**Anyone care to take a wild guess as to who the car is?**

**Please click on the green box thingy at the bottom of the page and let me know what you think.**


	6. Chapter 5: Car Picks The Driver

**To everyone who's been waiting patiently for this and the next chapter, I'm extremely sorry for the delays and I'm sure you all want me to get on with the story, so first the usual disclaimer, then on with the show. **

**Disclaimer: I do not and never will own Transformers, movies or otherwise. *sniff* I also borrowed some diaologe from the novelazation of the movie.**

* * *

**Chapter 5: Car Picks the Driver**

It was crazy.

Insane.

Impossible, even to her. And that was saying a lot.

A car driving by itself with no control box, no guy in the front sitting as low as possible. Nothing, but that weird voice and that equally weird presence around it.

Grace removed her helmet as she pulled up to the second to last stoplight on the road and took a deep, unhindered breath. She was almost at the warehouse, just straight down the road from this light, and then she'll just run back to the Witwicky residence, hopefully in speeds that would make Kid Flash proud.

Waiting for the light, she had to give the boys some credit on the location. It was a decent area, no other people around, not even anyone looking for a secret area to get high or drunk, hardly any traffic, and it was on the outskirts of Tranquility.

Grace debated on whether she should call one of the others and tell them about the driverless Camaro or not when an engine revved loudly from behind her. Jumping almost a foot in the air, she whipped her head around, green eyes wide and hand on the concealed blade in her sleeve.

It was the Camaro!

For a long moment, everything went still. The girl was quiet, holding her breath. The only sound she heard was both engines running and her heart pounding a mile a minute.

What was it going to do?

Hell, what was _she_ going to do?

As she watched in tense silence, the Camaro slowly eased its way from behind her and pulled up to the lane next to hers. Its windows were down, revealing an already confirmed empty front seat, and the engine had quieted to a low purr. In the back of the stunned teens mind, she noted that this was the same behavior she used around frightened children, animals, or people new to her time.

Grace stopped herself from jumping again when her phone suddenly went off. Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm down and pulled it out. _'Oh stop being so jumpy! It's not like it's gonna eat you.'_

She looked away from the car to quickly glance at the screen. It was a text message. From the car.

_Hi. Want 2 race?_

A race? It's asking to race her? How did it even get her number? Grace looked back at the car. It was still, unmoving, apparently waiting for her answer.

'_Drag race with a car with no driver. . .'_

The Camaro seemed to tense up next to her, waiting for a response.

The light was going to change soon.

With a sideways glance at her opponent, Grace put her helmet back on with a wicked grin.

'_Why not? Sounds fun.'_

She gunned the engine. The Camaro eagerly did the same. They waited, tension growing.

Waiting . . . the Camaro edged forward, revving its engine.

Waiting . . . Grace tightened her grip on the handlebars and leaned forward.

Green.

Both engines roared. Six tires squealed against the pavement. The smell of burning rubber hung in the air behind them as the two drivers sped down the road. Grace pushed the eye cover up, feeling the wind against the exposed part of her face. Then, threw caution to the wind and tore the headgear off, tossing it to the side of the road. Her conscience told her Henry would be pissed about that.

He did spend three months putting the speakers in.

There was panic from the car._ Are you crazy?_

Grace yelled over the engines. "If I told you how many times I've done this, you'd probably faint!"

Almost there . . . the Camaro sped up pass her. Grace went faster, letting out a loud whoop when they were neck-and-neck. Pass the last stoplight. . .

Wind blew through her hair. Her mouth set in a wide grin. Glancing at the Camaro, Grace laughed when it started to fall behind. She wasn't being mean. She just felt like laughing. The sped, the wind, the strange opponent . . . going this fast was fun! She hardly had a chance to do this lately.

There!

Grace carefully hit the brakes, letting out another whoop while skidding to a complete stop at the same time as the Cama. . .

The bright yellow car flew past her and down the road, away from the warehouse.

'_Or not. . .' _Grace thought. Too bad it didn't stay for a minute. A ringing from her phone temporarily drew her thoughts away from the strange car. Only to have them go straight back to it when she read the text.

_U win. Want a rematch l8er? Bye._

**555555555555555555555555555**

_Want a rematch._

The message remained in her inbox and came to mind all though the next day, waiting in a small part of her brain until she was busy or bored so it could jump out. During lunch, she was asked by Sam, Miles, Mikaela, and Trent (to her surprise) if she was alright. All were told she was just thinking and was okay (which wasn't a complete lie).

'_I doubt I'll ever see it again. Still, a rematch sounds cool. Maybe on a longer road. . .'_

"Okay, Mr. Witwicky! You're up."

Grace jerked herself out of her train of thought and looked up as Sam walked to the front of the classroom. It was History class and Grace was zoning out again, having already been taught most of it before she was fourteen. She silently watched as her new friend unslung the dark blue-green backpack from his shoulder and carefully emptied out its priceless contents onto the table.

"Sorry," Sam muttered as the artifacts exited the bag. "I got a lot of stuff."

A few seats away from Grace, Trent and Mikalea were sitting next to each other, the former having pushed their desks together before class started. Trent leaned over to Mikaela and whispered quietly.

"_Watch."_

No one else heard him. Well, no one except a witch with very good hearing. Grace discreetly glanced up at the two as Sam finished setting the display up.

"Okay," as Sam set his bag down, Trent pulled back a rubber band. "For my family ge- -."

A well-aimed rubber band shot by DeMarco cut Sam off as he stood up, hitting his cheek. Grace started plotting revenge when the teacher, Mr. Hosney, was effectively jerked out of the trance all teachers seemed to enter during class presentations.

"Who did- -? Who did that?" Snickers broke out over the class as Trent faked looking for the culprit. Mikaela was obviously not impressed.

"People!" the teacher's voice quickly silenced them. "Responsibility."

'_If you were trying to look cool, DeMarco, mission failed.'_

Retaking his seat, he signaled for Sam to continue.

"Okay, uh. . ."

'_C'mon, Sam,' _Grace silently encouraged. _'Just like you rehearsed.'_

"So for my family genealogy report, I decided to do it on my great-great grandfather, who was a famous man, Captain Archibald Witwicky. Very famous explorer. In fact, he," Sam pulled out a map and unfolded it as he spoke. "Was one of the first to explore the Arctic Circle," he held the map up, revealing the continent of the Arctic. "Which is a big deal."

A pulling sensation brushed the edge of her mind as Grace listened. Slightly put off for a second, she pushed the feeling out of her mind. _'Not now.' _Only to have it return with more persistence.

'_You can bug me later, I'm busy.' _Grace ignored it as Sam continued.

"In 1897, he took forty-one brave sailors straight into the Arc . . ."

_She was suddenly yanked from the classroom, tumbling through darkness as a new feeling engulfed her. Cold. Not from the air conditioned classroom, but Ice Age cold. The dark faded into a frozen landscape next to the sea. In the water, surrounded by ice, was a ship. Men were on board or around it, frantically chopping and hacking away at the gathering ice on the ship while shouting orders to one another over the howling wind and dogs._

"_Move faster, men!"_

"_Chop!" _

"_Heave!"_

"_The ice is freezing faster than it's melting!"_

_She was now standing on the frozen ground, if there was any there to begin with, staring transfixed at the sight before her. Movement on her right alerted the girl to a man standing next to her, looking up at the ship and not noticing her. A bearded man, maybe in his thirties or forties, dressed warmly, snow and ice caking his beard, hair, clothes . . . and glasses._

"_No sacrifice, no victory!" he shouted to the men. "We'll get to the Arctic Circle, lads!"_

_Then the dogs ran off. Some of the crew, captain included, went after them as time seemed to slow._

"_Come back!" _

Before she could see anything else, Grace landed back to earth with a mental thud. She easily kept her features and breathing neutral as she discretely looked around again. She was back in the classroom. Sam was still standing up front, holding the map up and finishing his sentence.

". . . tic Shelf."

Apparently, only a few seconds have passed. She compeltely missed the odd look Mikaela gave her.

"So that's the story, right?" Folding the map, he set it down and waved his hand over the items on the table. "And here we have some of the basic instruments and tools used by nineteenth century seamen."

Grace rolled her eyes as the students giggled and snickered, cutting Sam off. _'I thought this was eleventh grade history, not preschool.'_ She thought dryly. Mr. Hosney quickly held up a make shift stop sign with 'QUIET!' in bold lettering, effectively silencing the class and allowing Sam to continue. _'Well, so far, so good. . .'_

"This here's the quadrant," he held up the mentioned item. Then uttered a sentence that was possibly fatal to his final grade. "Which you can get for eighty bucks."

To this day, Grace has no idea how she kept herself from banging her head on the desk. _'And I spoke too soon.'_

"It's all for sale, by the way," Sam went on as he placed the item back down. "Like the, uh, the sextant here."

More giggling. Quiet sign was up again. Another urge to hit head on desk.

"Fifty dollars for this, which is a bargain."

'_And a full bloody hour of helping and listening to you practice this, which is going down the drain,' _Grace thought, barely wincing as she felt a headache form. _'You could've mentioned you were going to turn this into a sales pitch, Witwicky.'_

Setting down the item, Sam picked up the one thing that, for whatever reason she couldn't figure out, irked Grace that it was even considered for sale.

The glasses.

"These are pretty cool. These are my grandfather's glasses." He held them up for the class to see.

'_Oh for the love of . . . huh?' _

The light caught in the cracked lens revealing very tiny dots, some in neat lines.

"I haven't quite gotten them appraised yet, but they've seen many cool things. . ."

"Are you going to sell me his liver?" Mr. Hosney interrupted dryly. "Mr. Witwicky, this isn't 'Show and Sell', this is the eleventh grade. I don't think your grandfather would be particularly proud of what you're doing."

'_Yeah, he's rolling in his grave as we speak.'_

"I know. I'm sorry. I just, you know, this is all going toward my car fund."

_'And he brought up the car fund. Why did he bring up the car fund? Why?'_

Sam continued on with his report/sales pitch as he addressed the class. "You can tell your folks. It's on eBay. I take PayPal. Cold hard cash works, too. And th-the compass makes a great gift for Columbus Day. . ."

Grace didn't know whether to laugh with the class or share in the teacher's frustration. _'Y're digging a hole, dude. Bail out and recover while you still can.'_

"Sam." Said teacher cut Sam off with a warning in his tone.

"Sorry!" Quickly, Sam ended his advertising and went on to salvage what was left of the report. "Ah . . . unfortunately, my great-great-grandfather, the genius that he was," he reached over and held up two things that made Grace forget her criticism for a moment. "Wound up going blind and crazy in a psycho ward," In one hand was the newspaper article, the same one she acquired as a child. In the other was a sheet of paper with strange symbols. "Drawing these strange symbols and babbling on about some 'giant ice man' he said he discovered. . ."

This time it was the last bell of the day that interrupted Sam. As the class simultaneously stood and grabbed their books, Mr. Hosney made himself heard over the din. "Okay, might be a pop quiz tomorrow. Might not. Sleep in fear tonight."

Grace slung her Linkin Park messenger bag over her shoulder as she stood and walked over to her friend. Once again, she was amazed at the fact she had yet to slam her head onto or through something as Sam was still trying to offer up a price for the cracked glasses to their departing classmates.

"Here, you want? Here, fifty. Forty? Thirty?"

"_Sam._"

As if he noted the warning tone, Sam immediately (and finally) ended his attempted sales pitch. "Yeah. Sorry, sorry."

Rather than head to her locker, Grace waited at the door for her friend while he awaited his final grade. If he fails, she'll act as sympathetic friend until Miles comes along. It was the least she could do, really.

So she waited as Sam asked about the final obstacle standing between him and his first car.

"Okay," The confident smile seemed slightly forced. "Pretty good, right?" She could hear the hint of a hopeful tone in his voice.

Mr. Hosney, on the other hand . . .

"Ahh . . . I'd say a solid . . ." Sam's hopes went up. "B minus." Only to join his smile as it crashed to the ground.

"A B minus?"

Grace rolled her eyes. '_You should actually consider yourself lucky he didn't give you an F.'_

"You were hocking your great-grandfather's _crap_ in my classroom."

"No, kids enjoy . . ." Sam spoke in a rush, attempting to convince a change of mind and grade. "Look, can you do me a favor? Can you look out the window for a second? You see my father?"

The teacher glanced out the classroom window, Grace craning her neck for a look herself. Sure enough, parked at the curb in front of the school, was Sam's father, Ron Witwicky. Grace toyed with the idea of running down to let him know his son and house guest would be a little late as Sam when on.

"Okay, I wanna tell you about a dream. A boy's dream."

'_Playing the dream card. This ought to be good.'_

"And a man's promise to that boy. He looked me in the eye. He said 'Son, I'm gonna buy you a car. But I want you to bring me two thousand dollars and three 'A's'. Okay? I got the two thousand and I got two 'A's. Here's the dream," he held his hands together. "Your B minus, _phft_!" then spread them apart in a mock explosion. "Dream gone. Kaput."

'_Drama king.'_

"Sir, just ask yourself," his tone was very close to begging. "What would Jesus do?"

**55555555555555555555555**

To say Mikaela was a little concerned when she saw Grace willingly and repeatedly slam her head into her locker was an understatement. After knowing her for a couple days, if Mikaela was asked whether the girl was crazy or not, she'd agree one or two screws might be loose, but definitely not enough for Grace to do something like this.

"Grace?"

Having made her presence known, Mikaela relaxed a bit when Grace stopped playing the Headbanger's Ball with the locker and looked at her.

"Oh, hi Mikaela." She said smiling.

"Hi," Mikaela stole a glance at the locker, which now had a slight dent in it. "Are you okay?"

"Never better."

Before Mikaela could respond, Grace continued to hit her head on the metal. With a mutter of _". . . oh for. . ."_ the dark haired girl pulled out her math textbook and, just as Grace was about to hit her head again, blocked the poor locker from further abuse.

"Ow!"

"Quit it."

Grace looked at the girl in outrage. "How the hell is your textbook better than my locker?"

She shrugged. "Made you stop, didn't it?"

Grumbling, the younger girl rubbed the now tender spot on her head. Mikaela, curious as to why Grace was hitting her head, asked. "So, wanna tell me what the locker ever did to you?"

"Wasn't the locker."

"Then what's up?"

"I'm trying to remember if mentioning the son of God to get a good grade is considered blasphemy," Grace slumped against the lockers. "I don't think it ever came up in Sunday school."

"Huh?"

They were interrupted when Sam walked over. "Hey, ready to go?" he asked Grace.

"Yep," she pushed herself off the lockers and walked past him, discreetly elbowing him (hard) when he stared at her companion. "See you later, Mikaela."

"Uh, yeah," she was still a bit confused. "Later."

Because there were still a few teachers and students wandering the halls, the two walked quickly, Sam with a noticeable skip in his step. "So," he glanced over at his houseguest. "Get everything from your locker?"

"Yep." She answered casually. _'Go on and ask.'_

"What, ah, what were you guys talking about? You and Mikaela."

"Girl talk," Grace quickly changed the subject. "So, what'd Mr. Hosney give you?"

"A minus!" he nearly shouted.

Grace shook her head. Oh well. "So much for the car."

"Hey, an A minus is still an A," Sam held the door open for her. "Got the two grand, got the three 'A's, so hopefully today I get my car."

"Sweet."

They left the building entirely, Sam breaking into a full sprint to his father's car with Grace following at a more easy pace. "YES! Yes, yes!"

With the school day over, her mind went back to the strange Camaro as she hopped into the backseat.

"So?" Ron Witwicky asked his son.

Sam handed over the paper with a proud (and hopeful) grin. "A minus. It's an A, though."

"Wait, I can't see," he straightened out the paper to clearly see the grade. "Yep, it's an A."

"So I'm good, right?"

"Yep," Mr. Witwicky nodded in approval handed the report back to Sam. "You're good."

Starting up the engine, they pulled away from the school and drove to downtown Tranquility.

"So, Grace," Mr. Witwicky addressed his houseguest. "I need to run an errand with Sam. Do you want me to drop you off at the house or would you like to come with us?"

"We're getting my car today?" Sam asked.

"You'll see."

"I think I'll tag along," Grace answered. "I haven't been in town yet and Sam might need a girl's opinion on a set of wheels."

"Thanks."

Grace shrugged her shoulders and leaned back in the seat. _'Okay, stores to scope out. There's the grocery store, bookstore, furniture store, gas station, gardening store. Wow, those would look great next to the porch. And almost anything with a help wanted si - - what the hell?'_

A strange prickling sensation shot up the back of her neck. Looking around, Grace tried to find the source. Other than what she thought was a flash of yellow, there was nothing she could see.

'_Maybe it was . . .'_ she gave her head a quick shake. _'Nah.'_

"Hey, are you okay?"

"Yeah, why?"

"You had a weird look and shook your head."

"I'm fine."

Anything else Sam might have said was put on hold when his father spoke.

"Got a little surprise for you, son."

Both Sam and Grace were immediately attentive.

"What kind of . . . ?" Sam trailed off as they drove into the lot of a Porsche dealership.

Grace felt her jaw drop. _'That lucky bas - - wait, can you even get one of these for four grand?'_

"No," Sam grinned. "No, no, no, NO! Dad!" his excitement was rather contagious. Grace almost took back her earlier thought. "Oh, you gotta be kidding me."

"Yeah, I am," Mr. Witwicky informed his son. "You're not getting a Porsche." He chuckled as they drove out of the lot.

Sam didn't bother hiding his disappointment. "You think that's funny?"

Grace had to agree with Sam. That was just leaning toward cruelty.

"What, you really think I'd buy you a _Porsche_? For your first car?"

"I don't wanna talk to you for the rest of this whole thing." The younger Witwicky sulked.

Grace gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder and mentally told the dry voice in her head mentioning that one of her 'aunts' probably owned one or two of those cars, possibly a Mercedes as well, to shut the hell up. The odd flash of yellow appeared again as they pulled into another lot. Ignoring it, she instead focused on the flashy sign, Bolivia's Auto Resale, and the seemingly random décor.

'_Wait, are those piñatas?'_

"_Here?_"

"Looks like it, dude."

Sam shot a light glare at her before addressing his father. "No, no. What is this? You said a car, not half a piece of crap, Dad."

"I'm with Sam on this," Grace commented. "Half of these look like death traps, the other half look like they're missing some parts, and the guy in the front of the lot is a clown who's probably dying of heatstroke."

"Grace, this is the only used car lot in town and there's a guy taking care of the clown right now. Sam, when I was your age I'd been happy with four wheels and an engine."

"Okay, lemme explain something to you. You ever seen Forty Year Old Virgin?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, that's what this is," Sam gestured to what Grace figured was a beat up Sedan. "And this is _Fifty_ Year Old Virgin. You want me to live that life?"

'_You're being a drama king again.'_

"No sacrifice, no -."

"Yeah, _No victory_," Sam finished in a resigned tone. "I got it. The old Witwicky motto."

"You have a motto?"

"Gentlemen," a man walked over and greeted them, shaking Mr. Witwicky's hand. "Ma'am," he tipped his hat at Grace. "Bobby Bolivia. Like the country except without the runs."

'_Oh my gosh . . ."_

"How can I help you?"

"Well, my son here," Mr. Witwicky clapped Sam's shoulder. "Is looking to buy his first car." He answered with a hint of pride.

"You came t' see me?"

"Had to." Sam sounded disappointed.

'_How about being glad you're getting a car in the first place,' _Grace glared at the back of his head, then looked around. The odd feeling was back. Lovely. _'Okay, weird prickly feeling, you can go away no - - hey, an ostrich!'_

The random observation, along with Bolivia starting his sales pitch, drove the feeling away for the time being.

"Sam," he declared leading the other two through the lot. "Your first enchilada of freedom awaits underneath one of those hoods."

'_Well, that narrows it down to half the lot.' _Grace carefully approached the lone creature in the 'petting zoo' while listening in.

"Lemme tell you something, son. The driver don't pick the car. The car'll pick the driver."

'_That's a new one.'_

"It's a mystical bond between man and machine," he went on. "Son, I'm a lot of things, but a liar's not one of them. Especially not in front of my mammy," he pointed at an elderly woman behind the lot. "That's my mammy. Hey Mammy!"

Grace smirked when the woman held up her hand, middle digit extended, and turned back to the animal.

Only to see the bright yellow Caramo from yesterday parked not even four feet away.

It took all of her self control not to react while she freaked out inside. _'What the - -? You again?'_

_Her again? . . . small worl . . ._

"Aw, don't be like that! If I had a rock, I'd bust your head, bitch. I tell you, she's deaf, y'know." Bolivia chuckled loudly as he led Sam _straight to the Camaro._

'_Oh boy . . .'_

"Every piece of car a man might want or need."

Sam noticed she had an odd look again and nudged her arm. "Grace?"

"Huh?" Grace blinked. "I'm fine."

"Okay . . ." he walked over to the driver's side door. "This ain't bad," he muttered. Looking back at Grace, he shrugged. "Least it's got racing stripes."

"Yeah," the salesman quickly agreed. "It's got racing . . ." he trailed off in confusion. "What . . . what the heck is this? I don't know nothin' about this car. Manny!"

"What?"

"What is this? This car, check it out."

Sam paid little attention to the exchange (or his father's own confusion), opened the door and climbed into the seat. Grace hesitated then walked up next to the Camaro, keeping her guard up just in case.

"Feels good."

Curious, Grace leaned in the open window to take her own look. The interior wasn't that unusual. Two front seats and a backseat, with the same color scheme as the frame. Its leather and the dashboard appeared slightly faded with time. The radio was the classic knobs-and-eight-track kind and the wheel had only one button for the horn. With his thumb, Sam wiped a thin layer of grim off the horn, revealing a symbol in place of the trademark Chevy logo.

"Huh, must've been customized or something."

"Yeah. Something like that." Grace kept her voice steady and features neutral. For the second time that day, she was floored. _'It can't be . . .' _That symbol. It looked just like . . .

But that was impossible . . .

Feeling weirded out, and because her back was going stiff, Grace casually folded her arms on the window frame for support.

The moment her arm made contact, she felt _something_.

This car was not manmade or artificial in any way. There was a pulse. An odd one, but it was there. There was a soul, emotions, something important (_do cars even have blood?_) running through more tubes and wires than what she guessed a normal car had. The warmth of its frame had nothing to do with the afternoon sun. And there were thoughts. Broken and filled with static, almost like hearing a call out of range or through a crappy radio, but they were there.

There was defiantly, without a doubt, _life_ in the so-called car.

"You sure you're okay?"

"Yep, just peachy," Looking at the backseat, Grace quickly changed the subject. "Mind if I borrow this whenever my boyfriend visits? The backseat looks roomy." She joked.

"Hey, get your own car," Sam gave her arm a playful shove. "So, other than that slightly disturbing mental image, girl's point of view, what do you think?"

Grace straightened and took a step back. Part of her wanted to get him far away from . . . whatever it was, but something made her stop. Seeing Sam in the Camaro . . . she felt something _**click**_. Like Bolivia's "car picks their drivers" thing wasn't a complete load of bs. It looked and felt _right_. And the feeling of something _**BIG **_happening came back with a vengeance. Not wanting to sound too weird, Grace made a show of looking at him and the car. "Fresh coat of paint and a pair of shades and you're good. Might even get a phone number or two."

Meanwhile, Mr. Witwicky asked the long awaited question. "How much?"

Brushing off his own confusion, Bolivia placed both hands on the car. "Well, considering the semi-classic nature of the vehicle, with the slick wheels and custom paint job . . ."

"Yeah, but th-the paint's faded." Sam interrupted.

"Yeah, but it's custom."

Grace raised an eyebrow at this. "It's custom faded?" she asked skeptically.

_. . . not my fault . . ._

"Well this is your first car," he told Sam. "I wouldn't expect you to understand," looking back at Mr. Witwicky, he gave the price. "Five grand."

"No, I'm not paying over four," Mr. Witwicky shook his head. "Sorry."

Bolivia didn't seem too pleased. "Kid, come on, get out the car."

Breaking the main rule of car buying, Sam expressed a _lot _of interest in _this _car. "Wha – no, no, no. You said cars pick their drivers."

"Well, sometimes they pick a driver with a cheap-ass father. Out the car."

The two teens gave identical heavy sighs. _'So much for the Cammy.'_

_. . . don't think so._

Giving it a weary look Grace backed away from the door so Sam could get out (wait, when did it even close?).

"Now this one here for four G's is a beaut." Bolivia walked over to the Beetle. Taking one last glance at the dashboard, Sam climbed out.

"There's a Fiesta over there with racing stripes." Mr. Witwicky offered.

"No I don't want a Fiesta with racing stripes."

Grace kept both eyes on the car. _'What are you thinking?'_

"This is a classic engine right here," the other man went on. A little bummed about the Camaro, Grace swung the door shut as he continued . . . "I sold a car the other day th - -." Which somehow caused the passenger's side door to swing open, nailing the 'Bug and causing a loud beep of the horn from either it or the Camaro.

All four of them jumped. Grace stumbled back in shock. _'That wasn't me, right?'_

"Whoa!" Sam looked back inside the car, wondering how the crap that happened.

"Holy cow," Mr. Witwicky looked over at Bolivia. "Are you alright?"

The question was waved off. "No, no, no. No worries," Bolivia gave the smaller, now dented, car a pat on its roof. "I'll get a sledgehammer an' knock this right out. Hey Manny!" he called out. "Get your clown cousin an' get some hammers and come bang this stuff out baby!" He let out a loud nervous laugh and walked away from the 'Bug, giving the Camaro a wide berth.

Grace was the only one who noticed the radio switching on by itself. Like the not-a-car's thoughts, she heard static then a few words.

". . . greater than man . . ."

The witch stared, barely registering the conversation.

"Drove all the way from Alabammy . . ."

A deep metallic moan/groan (she didn't know what the crap it was) came from the car as the static became an extremely high pitched squeal. Feeling a slight ripple in the air, Grace instinctively threw herself down on the pavement seconds before all the windows of the other cars _exploded._ She didn't notice the other three ducking from both the sound and flying glass. She didn't notice the rather dazzling display of glass catching the afternoon sun or the strange look Sam gave her that lasted a split second. And she definitely didn't notice the fact that she had edged closer to the Camaro. All she focused on was trying to block the high pitched whine that grated her ears, as the hands and arms were covering her head. After a few seconds (there would be future arguments that it felt like five minutes), the alarm gave a final beep and Grace quickly stood up.

'_Whoa.'_

Bolivia stared slack-jawed at the devastation. Mr. Witwicky made sure the two teens were alright and attempted to escort them out of the lot. For the most part, Sam and Grace stood still. Grace because she was curious about the bloody thing and Sam because he was stunned.

And a tiny part of him still wanted the Camaro.

Snapping out of his daze, and realizing the only car in the lot that was intact was one he did _not_ remember seeing a few moments ago, Bolivia hurried over.

"Nononononono, hold it! It's yours for four thousand!"

Mr. Witwicky looked at him as though he lost his mind, then looked back at his son. Who, and Grace had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop giggling, was facing his father and trying so hard to mimic the photos of those cute-yet-frikkin-creepy pets with insanely wide eyes. Yes, the Camaro was a little freaky, but he still wanted it.

"Deal."

It took a good portion of Sam's will power to keep from jumping. He _did_ throw his fists up with a loud _"yes"_ before asking Grace. "Want a ride?"

Grace looked at the car. Well, she didn't sense anything threatening about it. When the windows exploded, there was a feeling of mischief followed quickly by apprehension. Now there was just relief and . . . something else.

"I'll get my bag."

Her mind went into overdrive when she walked over to Mr. Witwicky's car. First that nightmare, then one of her memories, the Camaro showing up and that vision in History. Then there was that feeling, that sense that something was going to happen. And it was growing stronger.

Grace sighed. _'Curse my curiosity.'_

Grabbing her bag, and Sam's, she hurried back just in time to hear Mr. Witwicky and Bolivia say something about paperwork. Ugh. "Here Sam," she shoved his bag into him and approached the car. "Shotgun."

The two climbed into the car, Sam almost vibrating with excitement (his own car!). Grace gave a mental warning at the dashboard as she buckled in.

'_Try anything and you're scrap metal.'_

A turn of the key and the engine, which Sam noticed sounded nothing like the vehicles appearance suggested, fired up. Grace carefully looked just as surprised when Mr. Witwicky came over.

"Hey, Sam. If, for any reason, and I'm not preaccusing you of anything, you think you shouldn't be driving, call me and I'll pick you up. No questions asked."

Grace tried to not pay too much attention to what was obviously a father-child moment and focused on the car. _'You'd think after fourteen years you get used to a stab of jealousy.'_ She must have missed part of the conversation because Mr. Witwicky had started speaking in a pretty damn good Jersey-wiseguy accent.

"If youse tries to stiff me, remember dat I knowse where youse live."

'_Must be talking about his half of the pay.'_ Grace thought with a laugh.

Sam gave an embarrassed chuckle. "Thanks Dad," he sighed quietly when the older man stepped away. "Still would've liked a Porsche, though."

The witch rolled her eyes. "Dude, will ya get over it? Believe it or not, some girls actually like classic cars," she looked at the rearview mirror. "Although the Bee-otch thing might have to go."

Sam laughed and gunned the engine, peeling out of the lot and nearly startling Grace. Neither they or the adults stopped to wonder if there was even any gas in the tank or thought of checking the engine. All Grace could think of, hear and sense was a clang from beneath them and a piece of the 'car' about to break and fall off. Hand on her seat, she quickly focused and 'grabbed' the object and held it.

'_I'll see if I can fix it later.'_

"What was that?"

"What was what?"

"Nevermind."

Grace settled in her seat and continued to 'hold' the part for the rest of the drive.

'_So much for being in a normal world,'_ she thought glumly. _'Oh well.'_


End file.
